


Dance With Me

by Weliany



Category: Logyn - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: But does not get it, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dance, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, No clue Loki, POV Loki (Marvel), Romance, Short & Sweet, what is happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25443217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weliany/pseuds/Weliany
Summary: Dance with me, I want to be your partnerCan't you see the music is just starting?Night is falling, and I am fallingDance with me.In which Loki dances with Sigyn for the first time, and has no clue as to why he can't be his most seductive self with her.
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn
Kudos: 18





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to [Cursed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266331) though both can be read in any order.
> 
> Title inspired by Dance With Me - Orleans.

It has to be her.

As soon as he has lend his eyes upon Lady Sigyn, Loki has known this one thing. He _has_ to dance with her. One can ask Why her? Why the sudden urge to dance with one of Queen Frigga’s lady-in-waiting? Perhaps because she was new to the palace and Loki longs for some novelty in his life. He has glimpsed at her a couple of times before tonight, and even exchange a nod and a few words when she was introduced to him. She is fair and modest in all she does.  
Loki wonders if it is an act she puts up like so many others at court. They all wear a mask and hide behind the protocol of the court, laughing when the King laughs, agreeing in all matters with the Queen and fawning over the Princes.

Loki feeds on the admiration of others, he enjoys it with relish and uses it to fulfill his needs like so many others have done before him and will do long after his passing. However, from time to time, Loki finds himself suffering from ennui. He looks around and sees the same tapestries hanging on the walls, the same guards roaming the hallways of the palace, the same flowers in the gardens and the same books in the library. People start to all look alike and Loki grows more bored by the minute. This is when he often gets his best ideas and uses his beloved brother or his friends as test subjects.

But tonight, Thor is not here to be trifled with, nor are the Warrior Three and Lady Sif. When Loki has entered the ballroom he had no expectation about the evening. He was set on dealing with the trivialities of tonight events and perhaps find someone to share a moment with. But when the fair Sigyn has entered his eyesight, something shifted.

 _It has to be her._ Lady Sigyn whose hair has been plaited with discreet vines of ivy and who wears a modest, yet charming, lime-green dress so long it caresses the floor when she walks. Unbothered by his surroundings, Loki makes his way to her. He does not need to introduce himself. All he has to do really is extend his hand and throw one of his charming smile for good measure.

There is a simmer among her group of friends as he says, “My ladies.” Two of them giggle while one, the oldest, lifts an eyebrow.

“Your grace.” says Sigyn, with a small curtsey. As planned, Loki offers her his hand and flashes what he knows to be one of his most seducing grin. But instead of the usual repressed giggle and excitation that comes with his invitation, Loki has to deal with a moment of confusing silence. “Is your mother in need of my service?” she inquires. Her voice is soft but with a hint of concern in it.

“Wh– No! I was wondering if you’d do me the honour of dancing with me.”

“But of course.” she says, taking his hand in an instant. And when she does, his heart skips a beat only to thump in his chest a second after.  
It is almost as if it can not believe it. But of course she would say yes. Few dare refuse a prince the honour of dancing with them and less dare refuse Loki. However, the gracious Sigyn displays a measured glee as if she is the one doing him a favour and not the other way around.

Loki makes his way to the centre of the dance floor, proud to parade with Sigyn at his arm while the crowd gazes and whispers.  
She is not the first to be granted a dance with the mischievous prince of Asgard, and yet, as he lands a hand on her waist and lifts the other in the air, Loki has a feeling that this dance is not like any other.

Lady Sigyn is not as light on her feet as he would have expected but she is a rather good dancer. She is nice to look at and when she smiles; she becomes this lively creature with a twinkle in her eyes, quick to respond his charming banters. They are beaming in each others arms, wrapped in a bubble of their own while the rest of the world watches them follow the rhythm of a music they do not even hear anymore.

Loki has no trouble seducing anyone he has set his eyes on and has no doubt that he will succeed with her as well but, when she laughs, mirthful, exposing her throat, and holding on to him to prevent a fall – and he is glad to catch her when that happens – Loki senses a shift in his usual game.

In spite of being a lady of the court, thus using the proper etiquette, she appears to genuinely be at ease with him, to enjoy his company for the sake of it, not because he is Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard. There seems to be no pretense with her, no game of any kind. In truth, Lady Sigyn appears to be only one thing: herself.

“Your grace.” she says with a smirk that creates a lovely dimple at the corner of her lips. A dimple he would be glad to kiss.

“Yes.”

“Your hand?” she answers glancing over her shoulder to Loki’s hand placed against the smalls of her back.

“Yes?” he asks acting as if there is nothing to be bothered about, even though he has put his hand there on purpose, to erase the conventional distance between them. If all goes accordingly, this dance will end with them getting out of the crowd and find a more quiet place to spend the rest of the night.

“It’s not supposed to be there.” she reminds him with a light chuckle. Her eyebrows are raised on her forehead though she is neither crossed or surprised. After all, this Loki we are talking about. He is bound to make such a move at some point, if only for just the sake of trying.

Loki rights this wrong by placing his hand on her waist, and leans toward her so he can smell her hair as he gives her a well-made and charming apology. All is not lost yet, he tells himself. She may be an honest woman uninterested in Loki’s game, but she has become a player nonetheless.

“Your grace.” she says again a moment later.

“My lady.” he purrs, laying eyes on her. Using the music, Loki presses his hand against her a little bit, just enough to get rid of a few unbearable inches between them.

Lady Sigyn stretches her neck, her cheek brushing his as she moves her lips to his ear. A delightful shiver of anticipation seizes him. She is not leaning on to him but she is close enough so he can almost feel the tender pressure of her flesh against his chest.

“I believe your hand has a mind of its own.” Saying this, Sigyn circles Loki’s wrist with her slender fingers. Her touch is light and tender and when she puts his hand where the protocole would have it belong, Loki curses at himself for being too obvious.

This one requires more finesse. He has suspected as much right from the start. However, Loki can not help but miss every chances he gets. So far she has been lenient with him and he has taken it as a sign of interest. What if he has been wrong all along? What if she is not interested with him _at all_? Loki’s thought spiral down for a moment during which he wonders if Sigyn is or is not, in fact, a master at playing hard to get. If so, she is gifted with a high level of subtlety he might be envious of.  
But as he glances at her, and notices how restful and content she is in his arms, he remembers there is not a drop of malice in her body.

“Might that it does.” he chuckles with a bow of his head as way of apology. Usually, his partner would be head over heels in love with the idea of being with the Prince. They would do whatever it takes to remain of interest, to have _him_ , the elusive Loki, all to themselves, even for only a night. And Loki obliged. Every time.

However, Sigyn does not even try. She just gets with the flow of things as if the upcoming end of the dance holds no matter. There is a shift in the rhythm; the pace slows down and soon the tune will change and Lady Sigyn will thank him for the dance with a curtesy and a polite smile and she will go her own way as it is required of her to do so.

“Would you care for another one?” asks Loki, before the music changes. He had to push a lump down his throat to get the words out.

She does not answer right away though she remains in his arms while she ponders. Loki’s hand around hers stiffen, his grasp on her waist get more firm as if his body is trying to prevent her from leaving. She shoots a look across the room and when her eyes return to Loki, he senses the answer he has dreaded though never thought possible.

“I should leave you to someone else.”

“Why, it would be my honour if you were to agree to another one.”

“And give this untamed hand of yours the chance to do what it will?” she laughs and Loki catches himself simpering.

“If it does, you may punish it in any way you see fit.” He hides his desperation behind humour, hoping it will be enough to make her stay for she responds better to his wits than his cooing.

His hopes are shattered when Sigyn takes a small step back. She is still within arms reach but her sudden absence slices him, leaving him begging for more of her touch. However, the lady is full of surprised.

She takes his hand, and with a cheeky smile that reaches her eyes, lift it to her lips and places a chaste kiss in the centre of his palm. The brush of her plump rosy lips ignite a fire in him which shows in the form of a blush across his nose and all the way to his ears.

Sigyn laughs at his gawk expression. “There. I have punished _and_ forgiven.”

Loki is used to certain level of audacity from his conquests. But none before have cultivate such a mystery by being their most natural self. With this rather innocent but playful gesture, Sigyn goes beyond the very concept of audacity and it freezes him in the middle of the dance floor.

He is helpless as he watches her disappear in the crowd.

* * *

Loki pours himself some wine when a shadow moves towards him. His mother, the Queen, slides by his side. She leans against the table where are the refreshments, gazing at her guests with a pleased smile on her face.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my son?” she asks sipping from her golden cup.

Loki turns his heels to face the room as well, his eyes landing on Sigyn without having to search for her. Ever since she has left his embrace, he seemed to have developed the strange ability to find her wherever she might be in the room at the first try.

The lady is chatting with her friends near an open window that gives to a balcony. The breeze ruffles a few strands of her gorgeous hair, playing with the twigs and leaves in her plait. She has refused every man that came asking for a dance though she has talked with a couple of them, sometimes sharing a drink with them. But nothing more.

“It is a lovely evening. You've outdone yourself.” He congratulates his mother with a kiss on her temple.

“I’ve noticed you danced less tonight. Are you well?”

“I am, Mother.”

“Haven’t you find a partner to suit your needs yet?”

Loki eludes the question doing his best not to look toward the lady of his thoughts, but Freya’s sharp blue eyes are set on a spot across the room, on lady Sigyn before they return to her son’s face.

“Well, the night is still young. ” she says with a hand on his forearm then proceeds to peck his cheek.

After a while, entertaining himself with boring conversations or dull dances, Loki decides that enough is enough. Everywhere he goes, his eyes find her and no matter how loud the orchestra might be, all he hears is Sigyn’s voice. She has invaded his mind and this is unbearable.

“I’m sorry but I have to go.” he says to a defeated princess who has waited all night for a dance with Loki. Without a single remorse he leaves her in the middle of the dancefloor and snakes in and out of the joyous crows. He emerges near the group of girls and women that surrounds Sigyn, elbowing a broad shouldered man currently talking to her.

“Lady Sigyn, if I may.”

She is taken aback, and for the first time since they have parted ways, she looks at him. A tickle runs through his palm where she has put her lips before.

“Your grace.” she says with a courtesy. “How may I be of service?”

All of her friends bend the knee as well, lowering their heads. The man Sigyn was talking to, bows his head with a short: “M’prince.”

All eyes are on Loki and for some reasons, there is a knot in his chest and butterflies buzzing in his stomach. He stares at Sigyn, bug-eyed, and for a split second wishes he has come fully prepared.

“I – only require a moment of your time.” 

“Of course, your grace.” she replies though she does not move.

She holds on the cup the man has provided her with and stared at the prince with a patient smile. Shortness of breath and sweat are not things Loki experiences outside of a post-coitus bliss. And yet, facing her being so...so...formal, Loki doubts himself. He feels like turning into a mice and crawl into a hole in the wall to be far away from those prying eyes and her placid seriousness. Is it possible that he has misread the signs, that he is only driven by his will? Is it possible that she might not be that into him, or…at all?

“Alone?” he asks leaning over her, placing a hand on her elbow.

Her friends giggle and the man shifts on his legs. No doubt he was trying to seduce the fair lady Sigyn as well but she has given him nothing. Poor lad, thinks Loki, oblivious to the fact that she has given him nothing as well. Well, not nothing. There has been a kiss. A chaste one in his hand, but a kiss nonetheless.

“Oh, uh, the truth is that I was about to leave, your grace.” Sigyn answers, contrite.

“Say what you must, lord.” interferes the man. “Then I shall escort you back to your home, my lady.”

“There’s no need.” she says with a wavering smile.

“I insist.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Loki snapes at the man. “Do you have need for an escort my lady?” he then asks Sigyn.

“No. We are to walk ourselves home my sisters and I.”

Sisters. Now that Loki looks at them, he sees a resemblance, a family air than runs through each one. Sigyn has four sisters with great beauty in their own way though none compare to hers. For a brief moment, he locks eyes with one. A fierce little thing whose brown eyes burn with untamed lust. He could have some fun with this one if he was not so caught up with Sigyn.

“There, you have your answer. Now, leave.” orders Loki.

The man obeys, though not without a dark glance towards the prince who so rudely cock blocked him. Loki wishes her sisters would go as well, but they are set on staying around and he cannot blame them. After all, it appears that the Prince of Asgard is chasing their sister, developing a strong infatuation with each minute spent near or far away from her.

“I must apologize for my rudeness.” he says to the five women.

“You’re the Prince, you should do whatever pleases you.” answers the little minx with dark hair and eyes.

“Magda.” reprimands the eldest. "Behave yourself in the presence of the Prince."

"Or ever." adds one of Sigyn youngest sister.

Loki catches Sigyn’s smile. She is hiding behind the drink she is finishing then searches for a place to put it. Loki frees her by taking the cup, using the opportunity to brush her fingers.

  
“Thank you, your grace. It has been a lovely evening. I hope you will enjoy the rest of it.”

  
As she walks past him, Loki has to fight the urge to stop her from walking away. Moreover, he has to refrain himself for asking if he will see her again. Of course he will, she works for his mother so he is bound to meet her more in the near future, but that will not what his question will imply.

There is no telling if she will answer with anything other than a formal and obvious statement. Chances are he will make a fool of himself in front her sisters or worst, in front of her, and that is an unacceptable outcome.

He watches her leave, with starry eyes and a warm feeling spreading from his stomach to his chest an head. She is near the door and he has not move. She lets her eldest sister come through first, then Magda and takes her two youngest sisters by the hand. She draws a step toward the exit and glances over her shoulder. 

She meets with Loki's gaze and at this moment, fantasy could not be more giving.

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! Another work without angst. What is happening to me???
> 
> Anyhoo...
> 
> Thank you again, past-self, for having left a nice WIP for me to simply edit. July is a very busy month for me, work-wise and family-wise, so coming up with fresh new content was near impossible.
> 
> I hope you liked 'Dance with me' and if you haven't check out 'Cursed', there it [is](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266331) for you to enjoy as well 💛
> 
> -W


End file.
